In the Arms of Demons
by Wynter Spite
Summary: <html><head></head>In which Dean and Sam are the Kings of Hell and have been for years, and Bobby made a deal ten years ago. Now it's time to collect.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is an AU where Sam and Dean are the Kings of Hell and Bobby made a deal ten years ago and now's the time to collect. Also, the Angels are still storming Hell, looking for a Righteous Man who, incidentally, they don't know is one of the Kings Down Under. Heh, heh. **

**I'm probably going to do a next chapter where they meet Castiel, but I dunno. Eh, we'll see.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own them. If I did, there'd be way more bro-hugs, a lot more chick-flicks, and Sam and Dean and Cas would be besties forever after. Also, Hallucination Lucifer would be immensely more helpful and less sadistic, and they'd go to a lot more different universes, maybe one where they're sent into the bodies of a Dean and Sam who are demons on the run from John and Bobby (but they wouldn't know that until later) or one where they lose their memories of everything, even each other, and yet are still as bro-tastic as ever. And then there'd be one where they're sent into the bodies of a Dean and Sam who are Angels and Castiel is a Demon . . . If anyone wants to write these things, I want to read them.**

**Warnings: Swearing, because it's Dean and we love him for being the pie-coveting badass that he is.**

* * *

><p>Bobby Singer sighed as the eerie sound of Hellhounds howling echoed in the night. He stood up and stepped off the porch, shoving his hands into his pockets.<p>

It had been a good ten years, but it looked like his time was finally up. Least it was for a good cause. Karen would live a normal life, never knowing she'd been possessed by a demon.

Another howl cracked the air.

"Oh, come on," Bobby said, exasperated. "Enough with the dramatics."

The howling paused, as if hurt. Then a wet nose snuffled his leg.

"Ugh."

A rough tongue licked his shoe.

"Stop that, you mangy mutt."

The Hellhound whimpered, wounded by Bobby's cruel words.

"All right, all right, I'm sorry."

The Hound panted in forgiveness.

"What're you waiting for, anyway? Just kill me already. You're drooling on my shoes."

And then there was Hell.

* * *

><p>"Where're we goin'?" Bobby asked the demons who'd taken hold of his arms.<p>

"To see the Kings," one of the demons, the one with shaggy blond hair said.

"What, the Kings of Hell?"

"You got it," the other demon said, this one with black hair and a bored expression.

"Why're we goin' to see them?"

"They found you interesting. You're going."

"Whatever you say, fellas."

They stopped at two big, elegant doors, which opened by themselves. Shaggy Hair shoved Bobby. "Walk."

Bobby straightened and glared at the demon, curling his lip before turning sharply and striding forward. The doors shut behind him, locking everyone else out, including the demons who'd led him there.

Two golden, bejeweled thrones sat in front of him. In one was a demon with light brown hair in a crew cut, a scepter in his hand and a crown on his head, looking very comfortable in his chair fit for, well, a king.

In the other was another demon, one without a crown or a scepter, a book in his hand while he pushed messy dark-brown hair out of his eyes. He looked strangely innocent and sympathetic.

The one with the crown waved at Bobby. "Yo. I'm King Dean." He smirked when he said it, and gestured to the other demon. "This is King Sam."

King Sam glared at King Dean, then turned to Bobby. "Just Sam, please."

"Just Sam," King Dean muttered. "Where's the style? Where's the flair?"

"Dean," Sam said, exasperated.

"King Dean."

"I'm not going to call you King Dean."

"What? Why not?"

"We've been over this."

"No reason we can't go over it again."

"Yes, Dean. Yes, there is."

Bobby cleared his throat. The demons looked at him. "What am I doin' here?"

"Mr. Singer," Sam began.

"Bobby."

"Bobby," Sam echoed dutifully.

"Now what'm I doin' here?"

Sam opened his mouth, but King Dean got there before he did.

"You're being useful. What's your résumé?"

"My what?"

"Your résumé," King Dean repeated.

"I don't have a damned résumé. Idjit," Bobby said beneath his breath.

King Dean's lips cracked into a smile. "I like you." He turned to the other demon. "What do you say, Sam?"

"I don't make you call me King Sam."

"Are we back to that? C'mon, Sammy, that's over with."

"Until they bring in the next one."

"Dude," King Dean said, hurt. "I don't go at you for calling yourself Just Sam."

"Dean," Sam began.

"No." King Dean turned away with a sniff. "You've hurt my feelings now. I'm not talking to you anymore."

Sam laughed. "Jerk."

King Dean made a satisfied noise. "Bitch."

"I need a drink," Bobby mumbled.

King Dean pointed at him. "That's the best idea I've heard so far." He snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened.

"Hey," he shouted. "Need some booze over here! Dudes, what have I told you about ignoring the finger-snapping?"

One of the doors opened slightly, and a demon intoned, "You don't ignore the finger-snapping."

"That's right. Now shoo."

The demon grimaced.

"Hey! I saw that, Azazel! Service with a smile man, service with a smile!"

Azazel groaned and shut the door, presumably to get the beer.

"Do you have to taunt them?" Sam asked.

"Only the ones I don't like. Remember Alastair?"

Sam sighed. "Yes, Dean, I remember Alastair."

"Smarmy bastard. He got what he deserved."

"You gave him bathroom duty, Dean."

"See? What he deserved."

"The bathrooms are worse than that battlefield we visited in Vietnam."

"Oh yeah. What was it? 1964?"

"1963."

"Right. But you know, Sammy, not even you like Alistair."

"No one likes Alistair."

"So you admit that he deserves bathroom duty."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I give up."

"Quitter."

He chuckled. Bobby glanced from him to the fond smile on King Dean's face as he watched Sam.

These were the Kings of Hell? He'd met crueler ER nurses.

The doors opened, and the earlier demon walked back in with three bottles of Jack Daniels on a silver platter. His expression was pained as he handed the bottles to the Kings and Bobby.

"Yo," King Dean said. "Send Meg in."

Azazel cursed beneath his breath and trudged out.

"That's King Damned Bastard Scum of Hell to you," King Dean called after him.

"Dean," Sam said, voice stern.

King Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'll go easy on him."

Bobby took a gulp of his Jack Daniels and waited to see what scene would play out next.

A female demon walked into the throne room, one with dark hair that tumbled to her shoulders in waves and a face that would have seemed childish if not for the cynical smile at her lips. "Something you wanted, Majesties?"

"How long until the Angels get to the throne room?"

"Two hours, five days."

"Oh." King Dean looked disappointed. "Really? I thought they'd get here faster than that." He paused. "Wait, don't tell me. They sent someone to go through the dungeons. Sneaky bastards. Can you find out who?"

"You know me," Meg murmured. "Always happy to help."

King Dean winked at her. "Good. Now go buy yourself something nice. My treat."

"Oh, joy." She gave him a sarcastic salute, and strode out.

King Dean watched her leave, grimacing. "Does she have to smile like that?"

"But you're so charming, Dean," Sam said, deadpan. "How can she resist you?"

Bobby snorted.

King Dean gave Sam a scowl, but Bobby could tell he didn't mean it. "Yeah? Why don't you try getting laid one of these days, Sammy? Maybe it'll bring out your inner coolness."

"I have inner coolness?" Sam exclaimed. "Wow!"

King Dean started to laugh. Sam smiled serenely, pleased with the outcome of his words.

"You boys brothers or somethin'?" Bobby asked once the laughter had died down.

"How could you tell?" King Dean asked.

"Well, you sure as hell don't look like sisters."

"Aw, Sam, all your hard work finally paid off," King Dean said.

Sam's lips twitched. "Shut up, Dean."

King Dean pretended hurt. "What? I thought you'd be proud. I know how often you've been mistaken for a girl-"

Sam threw his book at him.

King Dean caught it, snickering as he tossed it back at Sam.

Bobby shook his head. "I've seen convicts with better manners than you two."

Sam looked apologetic. King Dean looked satisfied.

A demon screamed. "Alastair set the bathrooms on fire again!'

King Dean stood up and shouted, "Godammit, Alastair, back to Time Out with you!"

A nasal voice whined, "Aw, Majesty, you know how boring it gets . . ."

"No."

"Okay, okay, just don't make me wear the-"

King Dean pointed at the demon Alastair. "You're wearing the Dunce Cap."

"I'm not wearing the Dunce Cap."

"You're wearing it."

"No."

"Are too."

"Not."

"Too."

"Not."

"T-"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, exasperated. "Forget about the Dunce Cap. Just send him to Time Out with Ruby."

"Not Time Out!" Alastair cried nasally as two more demons grabbed his arms. "No! _Noooooo_!"

The doors slammed shut.

Sam sighed. "Dean . . . Maybe we should change Time Out?"

"It's Arts and Crafts, Sam. Glitter and colored paper. It's not like it'll hurt them." King Dean paused. "Well, not physically, at least. Not so sure about mentally."

"That's it," Bobby declared. "You two are certified lunatics."

They both looked at him.

"I'm stayin'."

"Really?" Dean asked, looking interested. "Why?"

"Hell can't survive you two, so I'm gonna be here to make sure it does."

"We don't need a keeper," Dean argued.

"Uh, yeah, ya do."

"But-"

"Bobby," Sam began.

"Shut it."

They subsided, Dean pouting and Sam looking sadly puppyish.

"I don't wanna hear a word outta you two until we get this sorted out."

"But Bobby-"

"Shuddup."

Dean closed his mouth.

"Not one word, y'hear me? Don't answer." Bobby turned away, muttering, "Idjits."


	2. Chapter 2: Carry On My Very Wayward Sons

**Well, here's the second chapter. I honestly didn't know if I'd write it, but here it is. I'm so proud.**

**I dedicate this to my sister, who seriously makes me question my sanity.**

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><p>"It has come to my attention that we have a spy in our midst," Dean said. He turned dramatically, flinging an accusing finger at Castiel. "Yes, you! Mr. Spy McSpyalot! Get down here."<p>

"Dean, no other demons are here. You don't have to talk so loud."

Dean sent him a glowering look. "Just let me have my moment, awright? Sheez."

A muffled snort erupted suspiciously from the place where Sam would have been if Dean hadn't been ignoring him right then.

"Well? Dude, we know you're there," Dean said impatiently.

The Angel stepped out of the invisible space he was in to stand in front of the Kings. "You knew I was there the whole time?" he enquired.

"Yep. We're the Kings of Hell, man," he said confidently. "We're that awesome."

"You're including me in there?" Sam asked. "Aw, Dean, I didn't know you cared."

"Shut up," Dean snorted.

"Oh. So you don't care? I feel so used."

Dean laughed. "I'm trying to make a new friend here, Sam. Go sit in the corner."

"No way, Dad. You're the one who wanted the thrones. I'm not moving from mine."

"If you had your way, we'd be sitting in old wooden chairs right now," Dean retorted. "Where's the glory in that?"

"Nowhere?" Sam suggested.

"Now you're learning." Dean sat back, satisfied.

Sam sighed. "Fine, but do you have to wear the crown?"

"You have no sense of adventure, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm one of the Kings of Hell, Dean, and you're seriously telling me that I have no sense of adventure?"

"Fine," Dean conceded. "I still want to visit humanity again."

"You set several places on fire last time you were there. We had to pay for the damages."

"We didn't _have_ to. What kind of demon reimburses people for what it destroys?"

"You helped an old woman carry groceries to her car."

"We said we wouldn't talk about that!"

"I'm a demon, Dean," Sam said. "We lie."

Dean paused. "You're getting way too good at this."

"What? Arguing? I studied law. Of course I'm going to be good at it."

"Why'd you study it in the first place?"

"Because I wanted to learn things, Dean. You should try it sometime."

"You're turning on me," Dean accused, having completely forgotten about the Angel of the Lord watching them bicker.

"I'm not turning on you."

"Traitor."

"Dean."

"Deserter."

"Dean," Sam said, exasperated.

His brother snickered, ruffling his hair. "You're so cute when you're annoyed."

"Is that why you do it so often?"

"Yuppp."

Sam gave up. "I give up."

"Finally. Hey, whoa." He pointed at the Angel trying to surreptitiously walk away. "No escaping. I still wanna talk to you."

The Angel Castiel sighed and went back.

"We're gonna be best friends," Dean declared. "Team Free Grill."

Sam stared at him. "What?"

"Huh." Dean looked puzzled. "I dunno. I thought it was something like that."

"Team Free Will, maybe?" Sam suggested.

"What? No. Why would we be Team Free Will? That's just lame."

"Team Free Fills?"

"Dude, we're not handing out free drinks."

"Team We Sell?"

"Sell what? A one-way ticket to the Underworld?"

"Team Be Well?"

"Why would we wish anyone well? We're demons."

"Seam Tree Brill?"

"What? What does that even mean?"

"Dream Ye Pill?"

"Dude, stop. Seriously, just forget it."

Sam subsided, satisfied.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to Castiel. "Ignore him, Cas. He's just mad that I messed with his fancy breakfast croissant."

"You put salted ice-cream that looked like butter on it, Dean. I had to go down to a human restaurant in Paris and then come back to Hell. While I was gone, you put a whoppee cushion in my seat."

Dean smiled in remembrance. "Yeah, that was funny."

"You're a kid, Dean."

"I'm a responsible adult who hasn't lost my sense of humor."

"You're worse than a five-year-old."

"I'm fun."

"You're childish."

"Entertaining."

"Immature."

"Ignoring you."

"Not doing it well."

"You are not like other demons I have met," Castiel observed.

"Did you hear that, Sam?" Dean said, elbowing him. "Even Angels think we're special."

"In the head, maybe."

"You're so depressing."

"You're so annoying," Sam snapped. "Stop elbowing me."

"Then stop being depressing."

"I can't believe I'm stuck with you."

"You know you love me."

"You're my brother, Dean," Sam sighed. "Of course I love you."

Dean pulled back. "Ugh, chick-flick germs. Get away."

Sam smirked.

"You fiend," Dean muttered. "When did you get so calculating?"

"When I realized that I had to be to survive you," Sam said dryly.

Dean turned to Castiel and pointed at his brother. "He's being mean to me."

The Angel glanced between them. "You are not hurt, emotionally or physically."

"I'm teaching you the Art of the Sense of Humor," Dean told him.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and you'll do it with various movies that he won't understand."

"Don't talk that way about Cas," Dean said. "He's our friend."

"And pretty soon he'll be insane. You know, maybe he doesn't want to be our friend, Dean. Have you thought of that?"

Dean looked at the Angel. "You're our friend, right, Cas?"

Cas seemed slightly frazzled. "I-I don't . . ."

"What? Just because we're demons and you're an angel we can't be friends? C'mon, Cas, we can show you all kinds of movies and stuff. You can watch over us," he added. "You know, make sure we don't break any heavenly laws or whatever."

". . . I suppose," Cas admitted.

Dean grinned and slapped him on the back. "Great!" He turned to his brother. "See, Sam?"

Sam sighed. "You win."

"Heh."

"But I still think we're going to drive him insane. Or, at least, you are."

"Whoa, hey," Dean protested. "Why me?"

"Remember Ruby? She spent three days with you and now she spends most of her time in the Time Out room, drawing rainbows and flowers and kittens in baskets."

"She was trying to manipulate you into making her Queen of Hell or something, Sam. And she tried to poison you. I couldn't just let her keep up her assassination attempts. Besides, the kittens are cute."

"She's insane now."

"She's happy."

"Yeah, happily insane."

"And she's perfectly content to stay that way." He turned back to Cas. "C'mon, I'm making you Vice President of Hell."

"Really, Dean?" Sam said. "Really? Vice President of Hell? We just met him."

"He's trustworthy. Right, Cas?" Dean nudged the Angel with his shoulder.

"Well, I . . ." Cas began.

Dean looked at Sam. "See, Sam? Trustworthy."

Cas wobbled over to a nearby chair and collapsed in it.

"You okay, Cas?"

"See, Dean? Imminent insanity."

"Bitch," Dean muttered.

"Jerk," Sam said.

"Confused," Cas mumbled.

"What're you idjits whinin' about?" Bobby asked.

Dean smiled widely, straightened, and swept a hand toward Cas grandly. "Bobby, this is Cas. He's the Vice President of Hell and our new best friend."

"Voluntarily?"

"Maybe."

"You don't know, do you?"

"Maybe."

"You swept him off his feet with your natural charm and charisma?"

"Absolutely."

"Idjits."

"He's willing," Dean said, his expression wounded.

"Yeah, right." Bobby looked at Cas. "What's an angel doin' in Hell, anyway?"

"We were searching for the Righteous Man," Cas said sadly.

"Whozzat?" Dean asked.

"He is the one who will prevent the Apocalypse," the Angel explained. "We need him."

"Yeah, but who is he?"

"We weren't told," Cas admitted. "We are searching blindly for a man who's name and features are unknown to us."

"Bet it's Sam," Dean said. "He's the most righteous person, like, ever."

"Dean," Sam protested, embarrassed and touched.

Dean smiled and turned to Cas. "Go ahead and look, dude. We won't stop you."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said simply.

Dean waved a hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. It's not like we actually want the apocalypse. A world without pie is like a world without a soul. Devastatingly lacking."

"The same goes for a world without people," Sam said wryly.

"Yeah, that, too."

"I must go back to my garrison," Cas said. "My brother Gabriel will want to know where I've been."

"But you'll visit as soon as possible, right?" Dean asked, worried. "I mean, uh, if you want to."

"I will try," Cas agreed. Then he was gone.

"I need a beer," Bobby said.

"Three beers, Jeeves," Dean called.

A minute later, Azazel threw open the door and hurled the cans at them before dashing off. They heard the crash of him falling down the stairs, then silence.

Dean opened his beer as the big door slowly closed. "It's good to be King."

"You think someone should see if he's alright?" Sam asked.

"Nah," Dean and Bobby said together.

A Hellhound wailed mournfully outside the window, a sad song to welcome the entry of a new soul.

Dean opened the window and shouted over its howls, "Really, dude? We're trying to drink our beer here!"

It went silent.

"Thanks." He shut the window.

And all was right with the world.

Well, it was until half an hour later, when Dean spontaneously decided he wanted to play the bagpipes and a kazoo at the same time, alternately banging a gong and whistling for all he was worth.

It did not go well.


	3. Chapter 3: Stairway to Hell, Literally

**Yes, I know it's been awhile for this fanfic, but I wasn't interested until now. Do you want to kill me? Of course you do. Are you delighted nonetheless? Of course you are. These warring feelings are only hurting you. Let one of them go. Preferably the first one. **

**Also, if my sister is reading this, then darling sissy, I just want you to know . . . you're like a sock puppet. Cute at first, but then just downright creepy.**

**Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: What? You're asking me if I own Supernatural? Are you implying that you think I'm worthy of ever doing so? I don't know what to say. *Sob* Oh, thank you, whoever you are . . . Oh. You're me. No wonder you think I'm worthy.**

**'CAUSE I TOTALLY AM.**

**Oh, shut up, sissy. I know what you're thinking, and it's not true. Go away.**

**(Read on, Readers.)**

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><p>"Well, who is it, Az?" Dean asked, annoyed. "We're in the middle of something here."<p>

Sam rolled his eyes. "Right. Because Monopoly is so important."

"See?" Dean exclaimed, gesturing toward his brother. "Sammy gets it."

Azazel glared at him and said through gritted teeth, "Be that as it may, an Angel wants to speak with you."

Dean perked up. "An Angel? Is it Cas?"

"Someone named Zachariah."

Dean deflated. "Oh. That douchebag. "

"Do you have to call them that, Dean?" Sam chided. "They're still Angels."

"Doesn't mean they're not assholes."

"Yeah," Sam admitted.

"He's even worse than Uriel, and that's saying something. Get him out of here," Dean said, directing the words toward Azazel. "And tell him that if he ever tries to trick us again, we're going to take that stick he's got stuck up his-"

"Backside," Sam interjected, sending a warning glare toward Dean.

"-and geld him with it."

The demon blanched, all the blood draining from his face as his hands moved to protect certain essential parts of his anatomy. "I'll tell him, King Dean."

One Azazel left, Sam made a face. "Really, Dean? We'll 'geld him'?"

The king shrugged. "Hey, if you didn't know me and I said it to you, you'd be scared, right?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't be overjoyed to see you again."

"See?" Dean took a moment to check his watch, which, incidentally, he didn't have. "Hey, we've got a new soul to meet in a few minutes. Once Azazel's done with Zach-the-douche, he's going to go and collect."

"Azazel?" Sam asked, concerned. "He's not the greatest person to send, you know that."

"Yeah, I do, but Crowley's dealing with Ruby, who's even more crazy than usual, Meg's out on a playdate or something, and the only other person I'd trust with collecting a soul is Cas, Bobby, or you. Cas is busy, Bobby's putting the fear of Singer into Alastair, and I need you."

Sam furrowed his brow. "You need me? For what?"

"The welcome party, of course."

". . . what? No. Tell me you haven't."

"Yeah, I've even got these cool hats and everything."

"Dean, no," Sam said, exasperated. "We are not throwing a welcome party."

"We so are."

"Dean-"

His brother pushed a Stetson onto Sam's head. He surveyed him for a moment before giving him a satisfied smile. "Lookin' good, Sammy." Then he took off his crown and put another cowboy hat onto his own head, pushing it back slightly.

Sam tried to remain serious, but his lips twitched despite himself. "Tell me we're not meeting a new soul in these."

"We're meeting a new soul in these, Sammy," Dean crowed. "And guess what else?"

Sam's eyes widened as he saw what his brother was holding. "No."

"Yes!" he said, sounding delighted. He crushed a fake egg on his Sam's hair. "Confetti!"

* * *

><p>Mary Winchester nee Campbell looked at Hell's doors, hesitating.<p>

The demon who'd taken her gestured toward them, his yellow eyes glinting in the light. "Go on. Don't want to keep the Kings waiting."

She took in a breath and slowly let it out. Then she pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

Instantly, what looked to be colorful confetti rained down on her head. She stared, startled, at the man-demon-standing in front of her, holding a party popper. Another demon, presumably the second king, had a hand over his face, looking for all the world as if he wanted to go around, desperately telling people, "I don't know that guy. Really."

"Welcome to Hell," the first demon said cheerfully, throwing the popper behind him. He took her hand and led her to the thrones. "I'm Dean, this is Sam and we'll be your servers for today." Then he turned and shouted, "Yo, Jeeves!"

The yellow-eyed demon from before walked in, his expression pained. "What is it, my King?"

"Get a chair for the lady. And make it comfortable."

"Of course," Jeeves said as he swept a bow, his eyes as sarcastic as his tone. "Anything for you, my most glorious King." He straightened and strode out.

"Hey, respect the crown," Dean called after him.

"Don't you mean 'respect the Stetson'?" the other king asked dryly.

"That, too." Dean turned back to Mary. "Welcome to Hell," he said again.

"Thank you?" she said, sounding slightly bewildered.

He smiled. "So, Mary . . . can I call you Mary?" She nodded, and he continued, "I hear that you made a deal for your husband. John, wasn't it? Well, we here at Hell Incorporated admire that kind of behavior, so you'll be getting the special treatment we save just for people like you."

"Special treatment?" she asked cautiously.

"Yeah. You know, master suite, chocolate on your pillows, fluffy towels. That sort of thing." He leaned closer to whisper, "There's even Memory Foam beds." He broke out into a smile, nearly beaming at her. "It remembers you."

She couldn't help but smile back, if a bit bemusedly. "That sounds nice."

"Oh, it is," he confided. "And wait 'til you try the showers. An endless supply of hot water, just think of that."

Mary stared at him. "Are you trying to convince me of something?"

"Er . . ."

The other king rolled his eyes and got up . . . and up and up and up . . . from his throne. He went over to them and gave the first king a look before turning to her. "Sorry about him. Sometimes he just embarrasses the hell out of me, no pun intended."

"Hey," Dean protested, wounded.

"What? You want the pun to be intended?"

He glowered at him.

Sam ignored it. "Forgive him his . . . Dean-ness."

"Dean-ness?" the first king wondered. "Deanality? Deanificence?"

The other king sent him a glare. "Deansity."

"Hey, that sounds a lot like density."

"I wonder why," he said, sarcastically.

"Are you calling me dense?"

"Yes."

"Ouch. I think I'm bleeding."

"How are you two the kings of Hell?" Mary blurted. It had been on her mind the moment she'd walked into the room, and they weren't giving her any hints.

"Oh, that's easy," Dean said. "You know Lucifer? Well, he's kind of trapped in a Cage right now. The Angels think that if he ever gets out, he's going to start the Apocalypse and fight Michael, which would result in at least half of the world being destroyed."

"You know, it sounds a bit like that prophecy with Loki," the other king said reflectively. "Except it's not Ragnarok or a trickster."

Dean snorted. "Geek."

Mary was the only one to see the flash of evilness cross Sam's face. "But I'm your geek," he said with saccharine sweetness.

Dean pulled back, throwing up his hands as if to ward Sam off. "Whoa, oh, gross, ugh, what the hell, Sam?" he cried. "Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack? I swear you only do this to see if I go into seizures."

"You never do, though."

"I knew it!"

Mary watched them, amused. "Lucifer's cage?" she prompted.

"Oh, right." Dean casually lowered his hands. "Anyway, he doesn't really want the Apocalypse to happen, even though most of the Angels do, so he's gotta stay in that cage, otherwise some of the more powerful seraphim would try to force the Apocalypse in ways that would be very, very bad. Me and Sam, we were two of his most trusted."

Mary looked at him curiously. "Most trusted?"

"Angels," he clarified. "We were soldiers, fought for free will. Admittedly, the war was a mistake, but we did all we could. Tried to reason with the Angels, but in the end, no one would listen."

"Did you get anything out of it?" she asked.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "Got my brother," he said, ignoring Sam's smile.

"And the Angels? Do they resent you?"

"We weren't very well known in the first place," Dean dismissed. "They barely even remember our names, now. And even if they wanted to kill us, they couldn't. We're too much for the younger Angels, and too important for the older ones."

"But what happened? Did Lucifer appoint you the Kings of Hell?"

Sam smiled slightly. "Something like that."

Mary surveyed his expression. "Or not."

"Or not," he agreed.

"And his Cage?"

"It's Hell."

She paused.

"Hell is his Cage. He can't leave here. Not for very long. Four days at the most, then the Angels would find him."

She tilted her head, thinking.

"We've got a pool," Dean said suddenly.

She blinked at the abrupt change in subject. "A pool?"

"Yep. Hugest pool you'll ever see. It's got waterslides and everything," he wheedled.

She gave him a smile that said she understand that he didn't want to talk about it, and accepted the lines drawn in the sand. "I'll bet it does."

"Big, fluffy towels."

"Lead me not into temptation," she told him.

"Too late. We've got hot springs."

"Tell me more."

"HD TV and Netflix."

She sent him a sidelong glance.

"Future stuff," he explained. "Hasn't happened in your time yet."

"Oh. Then is there a way for me to know if my husband will be alright?" she asked, her graceful eyebrows furrowing with worry. "He did love me very much. As I did him."

"We'll send someone to keep on eye on him," he told her. "He'll tell us if anything happens."

She nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

"Why don't you go and try the hot springs now?" Sam suggested. "If you just walk out the door and turn right, you'll find it. It'll help you relax."

"I think I will," she sighed. Then she reached out and patted his cheek, then Dean's. "You boys stay out of trouble while I'm gone, hm?"

"Will do," Dean agreed.

She smiled. "Don't lie to me. I don't even know why I said that. Trouble probably follows you around like a wolf to dinner."

"I don't think I like that comparison," Dean muttered.

She laughed and turned, beginning to walk out of the room, Then she paused to look back at them. "I don't need to know your secrets," she said gently. "So don't worry about it, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Call for us if you need anything."

She gave him another smile and left, closing the door behind her.

Dean gave a low whistle. "That is one woman I wouldn't want to get mad."

His brother's face said that he agreed. Implicitly. "Yeah."

"Hey, Sammy, speaking of Lucifer, d'you know where he is?"

His expression turned wry. "Right now? Somewhere in the 1700s, wearing a cowboy hat and riding a horse and calling any woman in his immediate vicinity 'little lady'."

Dean chuckled. "Wouldn't Mary be surprised to see that."

Sam smiled at that. "I'll tell Azazel to look out for her husband. Maybe I'll get Meg on guard duty, too."

"Yeah, good thinking."

Sam hesitated, then asked. "Do you think John will know it was a demon that took her?"

"Nah," Dean said dismissively. "A demon? He'll never believe it."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in Lawrence, Kansas<p>

John Winchester shook his fist at the heavens. "Demons!"

Then he proceeded to visit a psychic, truly acknowledge the existence of demonic beings, and begin to hunt them down for the sake of his departed wife, who was currently enjoying Hell like nobody's business.

All in all, Mary definitely had the better end of the deal.

Pun absolutely intended.


End file.
